


Blight

by GohanRoxas



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Multi, Original Character(s), Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GohanRoxas/pseuds/GohanRoxas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alina Cousland lost much the night her father's oldest friend betrayed them. She lost even more when she and her friend, Endrew, joined the Grey Wardens. Now she would have to put that all aside and unite the fractured land of Thedas against the dangers of the darkspawn and the Fifth Blight, dodging the political machinations of Loghain Mac Tir all the while. But how can you piece the world back together when you yourself are broken?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. House Cousland

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having this idea ever since I picked up Dragon Age: Origins earlier this month (mainly since I began playing as a female Human Noble Warden), and especially since I learned about Morrigan's Ritual prior to the final battle. If Alistair is meant to marry Anora and become King (as many people believe he should) he probably shouldn't be having a kid with an apostate mage from the Wilds. So I came up with Endrew.  
> A note or two on Endrew: He's a Rogue, in case it's not obvious. Think of him as kinda like a human Varric. As for how he looks, picture if you will what Richard Armitage looks like in Robin Hood. See it? That's Endrew.  
> One last thing before I leave you to it: this chapter has smut. It's brief, but still smut.  
> Okay, now that you're up to speed, enjoy the story (I hope)!

The city of Highever was rustic-looking to some, but to others, it was just as great a seat of wealth as Denerim. Especially in what was known as Castle Cousland, the keep of the family that had ruled Highever as teyrn since Ferelden obtained its independence from the Orlesian Empire years before.

            Back then, the combined forces of the Cousland and Howe families met in Highever to oppose the Orlesian hoarde. This time, however, the enemy was far less human, and far more deadly.

            When Alina Cousland entered her father’s main hall, he was not alone. Bryce’s old friend Rendon Howe was also there, and they seemed to be reminiscing of old times.

            “Back then,” Howe was drawling, “we were fighting Orlesians rather than…monsters.” He shuddered somewhat theatrically.

            Bryce chuckled heartily. “At least the smell will be the same.” Then he seemed to notice his daughter enter the room. “Ah, there you are, pup. I’m sure you remember Arl Howe.”

            “Of course,” Alina replied politely, “it’s a pleasure, my Lord.” Internally, however, she shuddered. She had never liked Howe, not even as a child. Something about him always seemed…off.

            “She’s grown into a great beauty, Bryce,” Howe smirked, his gaze on her more than a little lecherous. “That said, however… The fact that you trained her as a warrior…” He looked pointedly at the sword and shield buckled on Alina’s back. “…is quite unorthodox.”

            “There’s nothing orthodox about my daughter, Rendon,” Bryce smiled. “She’s always known what she wanted, and has never let anything stop her from attaining it.” The teyrn’s voice sounded proud, and his face glowed.

            Privately, Alina beamed at the pride her father showed for her.

“I should have allowed Thomas to come along after all,” Howe said then.

            Alina crossed her armoured arms suspiciously. “To what end?”

            The arl laughed. “To what end, she says! Straight and to the point, just like her mother.”

            “And I wouldn’t have her any other way,” Bryce agreed, chuckling, “Maker bless her heart.” His gaze turned to his blonde daughter. “Now, pup, I’m sure you know I didn’t bring you here just to share pleasantries with Rendon.”

            Alina’s eyebrow arched. “I do?” The corner of her lip was curled in a smile.

            The teyrn laughed. “Stop that. I need you to do a few things for me. First…you’ll be in charge here while Fergus and I are gone.”

            “Me?” Her grey eyes widened. “Why not Mother?”

            “Because your mother and I want to see how well you’ll do with administrating the teyrnir while Fergus and I are off slaughtering darkspawn. If it comes to it, you may one day hold the position yourself.”

            Alina blushed a little. “Father…”

            Bryce chuckled. “Still my little girl, despite it all.”

            “I-I won’t let you down, Father,” his daughter stated once she’d calmed down.

            “That’s what I like to hear. Now, the other thing…I want you to go see your brother. Tell him to head to Ostagar tonight with the bulk of our forces. Rendon and I will travel together once the remainder of his forces arrive.”

            “And again I apologise for that, my Lord,” Howe commented. “Were it not for the reports I have been getting about bandit activity on the roads…”

            Bryce raised his hand to silence his old friend. “Again, it’s no matter.” He looked at Alina again. “Fergus is probably in his room, saying goodbye to Oriana and Oren. Be sure to let him know, pup.”

            Alina nodded and went to leave.

            “One moment, Alina…” the teyrn said suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him. “There’s someone else here I’d like you to meet.” He looked at one of his armour-clad guards. “Bring Duncan in here, if you please.”

            The guard saluted smartly – a movement that involved him raising a foot to stomp heavily even as he slammed one gauntleted hand into his chest – and went to a side door, escorting a man into the room with a polite, “This way, ser.”

            The man who came in was tan in complexion and wore resplendent armour, which shone in the light of the large fire. Beneath the well-polished armour he wore a surcoat of sorts that was red and beige in colour. On his back he wore a longsword and an odd-looking curved dagger. He wore his black hair in a ponytail, and he had a short-trimmed black beard. He had silver earrings in his lobes. “It is an honour to be a guest in your house, Teyrn Cousland,” he said in a vibrant voice that spoke of experience.

            “I was not aware there would be a Grey Warden here, Bryce,” Howe commented, his voice sounding…surprised? Worried?

            “Is there some sort of problem, Rendon?” the teyrn asked, clearly picking up on his friend’s distress.

            “It’s just…there are…protocols involved in dealing with a Warden, and I am…at a disadvantage…”

            Alina’s eyebrows furrowed. Howe’s excuse sounded weak. Was there something else he was hiding?

            “Duncan here is a Grey Warden, pup,” Bryce stated to his daughter. “You do know who they are, don’t you?”

            “Didn’t the Wardens defeat the darkspawn during the last Blight?”

            “And all Blights, my Lady,” Duncan replied. “Though it seems that once again our predecessors did not defeat the darkspawn threat permanently.”

            “The Wardens need the best men they can lay their hands on to combat the darkspawn,” Bryce continued, “and it seems he has his eye on Ser Gilmore.”

            “If I might be so bold, my Lord, your daughter would also make a prime candidate.”

            Alina’s eyes widened yet again. “Me? A Grey Warden?” She chuckled with disbelief. “I doubt it.”

            “For a Warden to say that is quite the honour,” Howe said, apparently attempting to stay relevant in the conversation.

            “Honour or not,” Bryce interjected seriously, placing himself between Duncan and his daughter, “I’ve not so many children that I want to see them all off to battle. Unless, of course, you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?” The words hung in the hostile air.

            “I do not intend to push the matter,” Duncan assured his host. “I was simply stating that under other circumstances…”

            “Yes, well…circumstances…” Bryce coughed awkwardly. “Pup…your brother?”

            Alina blinked. “Oh, right, yes!” She sped out of the room, knowing when she wasn’t wanted.

* * *

After a few run-ins, mainly with Ser Gilmore, who’d notified her that her mabari hound Aedan had run amok in the kitchen storeroom – again – and her mother, her old friend – Bann Loren’s wife – her lady-in-waiting Iona and son Dairren – who was still single, she delighted in telling Alina – she finally reached the accommodations of the Cousland family. She could already hear her nephew Oren shouting, “Fear my sward of truthiness!”

            As she walked past an open door, she heard a deep voice chuckling at her. “You’re quite the high-profile messenger, aren’t you?”

            She did a double-take and sighed, laughing to herself. “It’s just you, Drew.”

            “Just Drew? You wound me, madam.” The man laughed.

            Endrew Torgin’s place at Castle Cousland was an odd one. By his own admission he was a wandering vagrant of sorts – a storyteller and occasional thief – though his reasons for being in Highever were pure. Or so he said. The problem was that most of the people in the castle – mainly Bryce, Alina and Oren – loved having him around.

            Endrew – though he preferred to go by Drew – was an average-looking man. Indeed, almost everything about him was perfectly average. His height, his build… The only thing not average was his handsome face, with light stubble, blue eyes and black neck-length hair that seemed to flow.

            Not that he was her type. No. He was far too…male for that.

            “So, your father entrusted you with Highever while he and Fergus are in Ostagar, eh?” Drew smirked.

            “Shut up,” Alina replied kindly. “He’s also given me the exalted task of telling Fergus to leave without him. Father’s planning to travel with Howe.” She sneered the arl’s last name.

            The rogue furrowed his eyebrows. “You’ve never explained to me why you hate Howe so much…”

            “It’s just…he always comes across as so slimy…”

            “So slimy you have to pin him to the plate with a fork before carving him up?”

            “Exactly!” She paused. “Are you making fun of me?”

            “No!” He obviously was. He cleverly switched tactics as they walked towards Fergus’ room. “Won’t it be awfully lonely without Fergus or your father here, though? Need someone to share your bed with?”

            She burst out laughing. “You’re incorrigible. No, actually, I don’t. That position has already been filled.”

            “Oh? Do tell.”

            “That Iona, the elven lady-in-waiting to Bann Loren’s wife.”

            “You saucy little minx!” Drew laughed. “I didn’t know you were into elves!”

            Alina smirked. “I’m into almost anything with breasts, Endrew.” With that charming little comment, the two of them headed into Fergus’ room. 

* * *

That night, Iona came to her room, as they had arranged some time ago. Alina had visited her in the study after the awkward run-in with Dairren and offered to “get to know her better”, as it had been put.

            The blonde elf closed the door quietly behind her and looked somewhat shyly at Alina, who sat on the bed in nothing but her smallclothes. “You are sure of this, my Lady?” Iona was blushing. “You truly wish to share your bed with a maid? An elven maid, at that?”

            “Iona…you are a beautiful woman, and it matters not to me what you are, race or otherwise.” Alina offered her a kind smile.

            Nodding and gulping, Iona unbuttoned the collar of her dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing that beneath it she wore no smallclothes, revealing her nude body. Her breasts were above average size – certainly bigger than Alina’s were – and it took little time for her pink nipples to become hard at the cool of the room.

            Alina stood and smiled. “You truly are perfect.” She put one hand behind Iona’s head and pulled her in for a kiss. The elven maid moaned and responded passionately, despite her apparent hesitation. Her slender arms wrapped around Alina’s neck, pulling her in.

            The human heiress pulled them towards her bed, letting Iona lie above her as they continued to kiss.

            Boldly, Iona began to undo the knots on Alina’s bra, successfully freeing her lover’s average-sized breasts. She was rewarded with a giggle from Alina, who guided the maid’s hand to her smallclothes. Clearly, Alina did not intend to be the only one of them naked for very long.

            The elf giggled and complied, removing Alina’s smallclothes with practised ease. Clearly, Iona was not as innocent as she may have appeared.

            Once she had been stripped entirely, Alina pulled Iona in closer, deepening the kiss and gently fondling the maid’s bosom. Iona moaned softly into the kiss, allowing the human enough time to slip her tongue into the heated embrace.

            Alina positioned the two of them so her womanhood touched Iona’s, their legs entwining slightly. Even as the Cousland kissed the elf hard, her hips began to grind into her lover’s.

            Iona’s moans were louder now, just quiet enough to not disturb anyone, but definitely loud enough for the human to know her efforts were greatly appreciated.

            Alina’s hands continuously massaged the elf’s ample breasts even as their hips ground against one another; the maid’s breasts seemed to be an object of fascination to her.

            Iona swore softly in some elven language. “My Lady…yes…!” Her words were breathy, quiet. She did not dare say anything more for worry of her volume increasing and awakening the rest of the castle.

            After a few moments of this, Iona’s head reeled back and she swore in that odd language again, feeling pleasure rolling over her as she fell over the edge. The sound of the elf’s passion made Alina fall off that same edge.

            After they had recovered enough, Iona laughed and wrapped one arm around Alina as she lay above her night’s lover. “My Lady…you certainly know how to please a woman.”

            “As do you, Iona.” Alina kissed her softly. “As do you.” 

* * *

How long they had slept, Alina did not know. All she knew was that Aedan, who had been sleeping soundly in the corner of the room, was barking at tremendous volume.

            A sleepy-looking Iona stood from the bed, still naked, and looked at the mabari. “Your hound seems agitated, my Lady.”

            “Maybe he heard something,” the hound’s mistress agreed.

            Aedan barked again, growling.

            “I’ll check it out,” the maid stated confidently.

            And then the flaming arrow pierced her heart and she fell.

            “Iona!” Alina shouted, going to her side.

            The elf’s eyes – those beautiful eyes – were wide, but saw nothing. She was dead.

            Dimly, she heard the sound of fighting nearby, but at present, she didn’t care. The object of her affections – one that was much closer to her than any others she may have had – lay dead on her floor, an arrow embedded in her chest.

            Footsteps. The screeching noise of a sword unsheathing. “Die, Cousland scum!” a voice snarled.

            The snarl became a gurgle, and Alina looked up for the first time. A dagger protruded from a gruff-looking soldier’s chest, the blade tip pointing at her through the man’s body.

            Suddenly, there was a chilling slicing noise as the soldier’s head was cleanly removed from his body. The surprised look on the soldier’s face stayed as his head rolled out the door; his body crumpled to the floor as his assailant removed his other knife.

            It was Endrew. His face and armour were covered in red spots of blood, both this soldier’s and many others. The knife in his right hand was stained with the red liquid. “Are you done blubbering?” he asked in a good-natured tone, though his meaning was obvious. “Put your clothes on and arm yourself. You’ve got a coup going on.” With that, he walked out of the doorway.

            Dazed, Alina looked at the beheaded soldier lying in her door. Mainly, at the shield that had fallen by his side.

            It had a bear on it.

            Howe.

            Howe had betrayed them. And now he meant to kill them all.


	2. Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Lord this took forever to finish. I just got so caught up in other stories and life that I completely lost track of this one, but playing Inquisition has brought me back to this enough to continue it. So here's chapter 2!
> 
> WARNING: Mention of rape early in this chapter. It's brief, but it is there, and I apologise.

Even as she put on her armour, remembering to grab her wooden shield and nicked longsword from the weapon rack nearby, she could scarcely believe it. Howe was attacking! She knew she hated him, but even so, she never anticipated him to do this, of all things.

When she was dressed, she stepped out of her room, Aedan following close behind. Out in the hallway, there were bloody bodies everywhere – some Cousland guard, most Howe troops – and nearby were Endrew and her mother – the latter in her rarely-worn armour – conversing quietly. Endrew’s armour was still caked with blood, most of it around his wrists.

When Eleanor Cousland saw her daughter unharmed, she let out a quiet gasp and rushed forwards. “Oh, my dear, you’re alright! I thought maybe Howe’s men had…”

“I did tell you, my Lady,” Endrew chimed in. “It takes more than a few untrained ruffians in armour to kill your daughter. Or me, for that matter.”

“Yes, I…I suppose I have you to thank for this, Endrew.”

He shrugged it off. “She would have saved herself even if I hadn’t been there.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened as something came to her mind. “We must find Bryce. He could be at the centre of this…” She gasped. “He could already be dead!”

“Mother, we can’t afford to think like that!” Alina snapped, her warrior training calling her to take command, even as she spoke for the first time since Iona – sweet Iona – had been felled by Howe’s bastards. “As long as we believe that Father is alive, we have something to fight for. We can make Howe’s bastards pay for every life they’ve taken…especially Iona…”

Her mother raised an eyebrow, but said nothing of it. Instead, she wondered angrily, “After all these years…why would Howe attack us now? And risk the ire of King Cailan at that?”

“I’ve been hearing murmurs of rebellion for some time now,” Endrew reported gravely. “Some say that Maric had some bastard child who has a greater claim than Cailan does, while others still say that Queen Anora is an unwitting figurehead for a rebellion by her family. Perhaps Howe thinks that by taking one of two teyrnir in Ferelden he can be in a better position to support a faction if it comes to war.”

“Civil war?” Eleanor murmured sadly. “When there are darkspawn on the edge of the Wilds?”

“Men are worse than darkspawn sometimes, my Lady.”

Alina picked up a fallen sword and gave it to her mother. “Can you still fight like you once could, Mother?”

The grey-haired woman scoffed. “I’m not some Orlesian wallflower that needs protecting, if that’s what you mean.” She took the sword from her daughter and belted it onto her back. “Besides, there may be some things in the room your father and I share. A sword or two, perhaps.”

“Well, let’s make it quick. Howe’s men may be idiots, but I’m sure they can work out that their friends are dead if they don’t report back,” Endrew suggested.

Alina nodded sternly and led the way to her parents’ room.

The interior of the room was surprisingly neat, despite the fact that the entire castle was in uproar. The covers were overturned on one side, evidence of Eleanor’s rushed exit. A trunk lay at the foot of the bed, while another chest lay overturned nearby.

The older woman pressed a key into her daughter’s gloved hand. “Here. The key to your father’s trunk. There might be something left in there.”

Nodding, the blonde woman knelt and opened the trunk with the key. Inside was an ornate dagger and a hand axe. She handed the axe to her mother, who belted it on beside the sword. “Drew, catch!” Alina shouted as she threw the dagger.

Endrew, who had been pawing through the other trunk, turned and grabbed the blade out of mid-air. He looked at it carefully. “Well then. How interesting.”

“What is it?”

“It’s an elven dagger,” the wanderer remarked, discarding one of his plain blades. “Dalish, if I had to guess. Though what it’s doing in a Fereldan lord’s chest is beyond me.” He tested the weapon’s weight. “Light, but definitely sharp. Very interesting.” He belted it on quickly before moving to the door. “We mustn’t linger here. Howe’s men will be all over the castle by this point.”

The women took the point and moved.

As they left the teyrn’s room, Alina noted that her brother’s door was open. Cautiously, she moved in to investigate, peering through the door.

What she saw almost made her heave.

Fergus’ wife lay lifeless on the stone floor, her skirts raised to reveal her ravaged lower body, evidence enough of what had happened to her before her death. Nearby lay Oren, his innocent eyes clouded and dead.

Endrew came in behind her and his eyes widened slightly before they closed even as he sighed. “We shouldn’t let your mother see this. She’s distraught enough.” His hands crossed over his chest and he bowed slightly. “May Andraste guide you to rest, Oren…” He turned away and Alina heard the heat and agony in his next words. “And may the Maker lead me to the bastard that killed you."

* * *

 

After a brief stopover at Highever’s treasury – which contained Bryce’s armour, the sword he’d wielded in the rebellion against Orlesian occupation and a shield with the Cousland crest, as well as yet another Dalish dagger for Endrew, a fact he remained confused by – they reached the audience chamber, where Ser Gilmore and most of the remaining guards had blockaded the main door, preventing most of Howe’s traitorous dogs from assaulting them.

Gilmore had turned to see the teyrna, her daughter and their friend, smiling suddenly. “My Lady! I…we had thought you dead.”

“Takes more than a few traitors to kill us, Ser Gilmore,” Alina half-smiled, her upbeat response dulled by the sight of wounded guards and those well enough to stand barricading the door.

“I see you have donned your father’s armour and blade,” the knight commented, momentarily distracted from the chaos.

“Better to have them with my daughter than Howe’s dogs,” Eleanor almost snarled.

“Indeed, my Lady.”

Endrew cut in, his face uncharacteristically serious. “Sorry to cut the pleasantries short, but we need to find Teyrn Cousland, now. If he dies, Howe wins.”

“I…have not seen him, Ser Endrew. You could perhaps try the servant’s quarters. He may have been looking for the passage out of the castle. Chances are he would be waiting for you all there.”

Alina’s face became a mask of determination. “Then that’s where we’ll go. Maker watch over you, Ser Gilmore.”

His face became sad, wistful. “Maker watch over us all.”

Endrew gave him a look and held out a hand. “Don’t die on us, Gilmore. The world needs you, whether you know it or not. When you make it out, head south for Lothering. With any luck, we’ll meet you there.”

“If I make it out,” Gilmore chuckled wryly, clasping the rogue’s forearm in comradeship.

“Like I said, you’d bloody better.” Smiling, Endrew followed the leaving Eleanor and Alina out of the room.

As they left, the knight turned back to the door and drew his blade. “Men! We might not make it out of here, but we’re going to take as many of those bastards with us as we can! Give them nothing, and take from them everything!”

The men roared in agreement, their faces set.

Suddenly, Gilmore had as much confidence as himself as Endrew had in him.

* * *

Wading through Howe’s guards and burning debris, the party finally reached the servant’s quarters and finally found the doorway to the secret passage…but what else they found was not the salvation they’d been hoping for.

Lying in a pool of his own blood was Bryce, teeth gritted in pain, grasping at an obvious hole in both his doublet and his stomach. “Well then…” he managed to get out. “I was…wondering when you’d get here…”

“Bryce!” Eleanor gasped, rushing to his side and immediately placing her hands on his wound; his blood began to seep ghoulishly through her fingers.

“Father…are you alright?” Alina bit her lip in concern.

“I…wish I could say I was, pup…” he grumbled, taking a heavy breath through his teeth. “Howe’s men caught me before I got here…I fear I won’t survive the standing, let alone an escape.”

“Don’t say that without trying! I won’t let you die.”

Endrew crouched next to his hosts, his face grim.

“Tell me honestly, Endrew…” Bryce managed a smile. “I look terrible, don’t I?”

“Moderately terrible, yes,” he replied, cracking a smile of his own for just a moment.

The teyrn laughed, but it slowly developed into a cough, blood falling onto his doublet.

The storyteller turned to Alina, his grim expression back. “He’s right, Alina. That wound’s fatal, given enough time. Even if the bleeding stopped, he’d get an infection and die that way.”

“I believe young Master Torgin is correct, Lady Cousland.” The voice was familiar, with a deep timbre that spoke volumes of experience. Everyone turned to look; it was Duncan, the Grey Warden from hours before. He was almost completely covered from head to toe in gore, spots of Howe blood all over his ornate armour. “I know wounds, and that wound is indeed fatal.”

“Then we’ll leave! Together!” Alina almost shouted.

Endrew grabbed her by both arms, almost shaking her. “If we try and leave here as a group this large, we all die! I don’t want to leave him, either, but we might not have a choice if we want to survive!”

“Then…leave me,” Bryce groaned. “Do what you must.” He looked up at Duncan. “I need you to…to get my daughter out of here.”

“If I am to do so, I must take a payment in return, I’m afraid.” The Warden’s face was masked with sorrow. “If you remember, I came here seeking a Grey Warden recruit, and the Blight demands I leave with one…or perhaps, two.” He turned to look at Alina and Endrew. “Both of you. You managed to fight your way through Howe’s men to make it here, where we met. Perhaps the Maker brought you both to me for a reason.”

“I can’t leave my family!” Alina protested. “I’m honoured you think I could be a Grey Warden, but still!”

Endrew gave her a serious look; whenever he became serious, people noticed. “If we don’t do it, you won’t have a family. You’ve already lost Fergus’ wife and Oren…if we don’t go with Duncan to Ostagar, you may lose Fergus himself.”

“Go with Duncan, love,” Eleanor said, her voice breaking with sorrow. “I’ll fight off as many of the bastards as I can to give you time, but you must go. Warn Fergus. Warn King Cailan if you can. Do not let us die in vain.”

“We must go, now.” Duncan rose and put a hand on Alina’s arm; she felt another, more familiar hand grab her other.

“No! I won’t leave you! Mother! Father!” she screamed, struggling in vain as she was literally dragged to safety by the Warden and the storyteller.

The door to the passage slammed closed with a hollow thud, and with that sound Alina’s life would never be the same again.


End file.
